Pages

Monday, September 12, 2011

If Charles Baudelaire or Oscar Wilde (pleading with Lord Alfred Douglas from within his jail) are references both in plain view in the new Serge Lutens fragrance De Profundis, and they themselves relied on this, their posthumus reputation might be rather lacklustre. Whether it is fatigue or overfamiliarisation, the olfactory seraglio at Palais Royal has began showing signs of tiredness, despite the vivid, novel colour of the latest perfume which shines in its beautiful bell jar like a bright amethyst. You can almost hear the cry of the 130th Psalm "De Profundis Clamavi Ad Te, Domine" for all the drama in front of your eyes! Sadly, experiencing the fragrance by one's nose is underwhelming, after such build-up, promising the scent of death, no less. De Profundis is a piercing, sharp, dusty and at the same time aldehydic "clean" floral that petters out to woods and a little fruity violet, rather than the dark, dangerously sexy or earthy, medieval scent suggested by its apothecarial look.

Just take a look at the official ad copy (or skip it), composed in the usual cryptic style which reveals less than it suggests:

"When death steals into our midst, its breath flutters through the black crepe of mourning, nips at funeral wreaths and crucifixes, and ripples through the gladiola, chrysanthemums and dahlias.

If they end up in garlands in the Holy Land or the Galapagos Islands or on flower floats at the Annual Nice Carnival, so much the better!

What if the hearse were taking the deceased, surrounded by abundant flourish, to a final resting place in France, and leading altar boys, priest, undertaker, beadle and gravediggers to some sort of celebration where they could indulge gleefully in vice? Now that would be divine!

In French, the words beauty, war, religion, fear, life and death are all feminine, while challenge, combat, art, love, courage, suicide and vertigo remain within the realm of the masculine.

Clearly, Death is a Woman. Her absence imposes a strange state of widowhood. Yet beauty cannot reach fulfilment without crime. The chrysanthemum is the sole pretext for writing these lines.

Turning grave sites held in perpetuity over to Life – a familiar of these haunts – the chrysanthemum invites Death to leave the cemetery and offer us its flower. De Profundis clamavi." [translation by Fragrantica]

But how did we get to here?L'Eau Serge Lutens seems like a seperate entity in the canon, both in context and in smell, and for that reason was given leniency, even if it alienated much of the fan base; and while Boxeuses conversely recycled the familiar in a most pleasant way, I was rather hesitant into jumping for a full bottle of Serge's last, violent and incongruous release, Vitriol d'Oeillet. This was a first. Not jumping up & down for De Profundis, later on, sounded like sacrilege! But the expectations were set too high: Baudelaire is too much of a decadent aesthete to reference with impunity; Eros & Thanatos has been explored as an idea by scholars for millenia; and a scentscape inspired by death is a risky bet ~ the church has the patent down pat after all. Lutens took the All Saints tradition of taking chrysanthemums (autumnal flowers) to graves and span it into composing a floral that would get inspired by death.

De Profundis olfactorily resembles a dusty, powdery yet sharp scent of herbal tea and flowers, with a smattering of honeysuckle, lily of the valley and greenish notes (green jasmine, green lily) on top; not melacholic chrysanthemums promised by the ad copy, but rather the aftermath of the funeral, despite the closeness with the autumn blossom.
What is more unexpected is that the bouquet of green floral notes very soon gives way to a "blanched" soapy musk resembling Galaxolide (but not quite! what is it?), and aldehydic nuances, reminiscent of the worst memories of L'Eau Serge Lutensand at the same time like bottled light, ozonic, lifting upwards and upwards...like a soul to the light?
Whereas the soapy concept was thick as thieves with the humorous, ironic allusion to "clean" in L'Eau as a sign of defiance in an era when perfume connoisseurs are embalming themselves in thick resins, stinky florals or bitter pharmaceutical-worthy oud notes to prove their mettle, in De Profundis the trick doesn't quite work again: The synthetic feel of the powdery note is far off the luxurious iris of Bas de Soie (which still denoted a classy sexiness) and at the same time it lacks the nuanced greyness of the majestic and unsurpassable Iris Silver Mist. Amidst it all, a fruity scent surfaces, enhanced by alpha methyl ionone (a recognisable violet note), giving a mildly sweetish, pleasant backdrop which bears a hint of familiarity with the previous Lutens fragrances. Although seemingly a loud perfume upon spraying, in its rather screechy projection upon first spray, De Profundis mellows into a soft woody skin scent which doesn't last as -usually- expected.

Evaluating a Lutens creation in less than stellar terms leaves me with a certain disillusionment, which is painful to experience. For more than 15 years, Lutens used to instantly transport me into imaginary travels atop a magic carpet which seemed to continuously unfold new motifs, to lull me into a reverie that united the mysticism of the East with the classiness and chic of the West. Perched, as I am, between two worlds, from a geographical point of view, this unison spoke deeply to my soul. I'm hoping that the line will find again its axis, but with dearest Serge reaching 70 it looks like it is a precarious, foreshadowing prospect and I find myself sitting on a church pew like a kid, confused with the world and eager to catch at straws...

Serge Lutens De Profundis comes in the familiar bell jar bottles of Eau de Parfum available only in Paris at Les Salons de Palais Royal (It's part of the exclusive line), 75ml for 120 euros. This year there will be two limited edition engraved bottles which cost significantly (significantly!) more (We're talking upwards of 1000 euros here): there will be only 7 of each bottle design for sale, reportedly.

For our readers, 2 samples of De Profundis, out of my own stash, will be given. Tell us, what would you like to smell in a "death perfume"?

Movie still of Haley Joel Osment in The Sixth Sense by M.Night Shyamalan, Music set to the psalm 130 Arvo Pärt

58 comments:

Thank you for this review , although it being the second one I've read describing this latest creation in disappointed terms does indeed not bode well for the future at the house of Lutens... So far, a fragrance referencing death, decay and Baudelaire that I much enjoy is Charogne by ELO.

I'm so sorry to hear of your disillusionism (is that even a word?) Are you sure it's Serge? I wonder if the influx of perfume releases EVERY DAY(!) has everyone's noses desensitized? This foggy haze of disillusionment seems to be the trend in most of the fragrance blogs I read - and I have even found myself less and less interested in perfume releases - even from the "greats". In fact, the most interesting fragrances seem to be coming from independent perfumers - not the "niche" lines ("refinement" seems to be what one gets from "niche", not originality...).

Is it true that this is SL's last opus?I hope not, especially after reading your less than stellar review!I find the concept of life to be much more intriguing than that of death, perfume wise, but I was intrigued by this new SL and can't wait to it - the visuals are really appealing.I already found (and own) a perfume that smells of death - Fracas. I love it, yet it possesses a funereal quality that I find very pronounced. Fracas for me is the eros-tanatos of perfumes: the sweet warmth of tender skin and the sinister chill from the otherworld.

oh, I don't know.... I might think differently one release later a year from now, you know. But after L'Eau, the "commonality" (though refined) of Cellophane, the puzzlement of Vitriol and now this, I'm starting to be sceptical and I am a die-hard Lutens fans, please note.

did I write that?? I was posting and editing at the same time. It's fixed I hope, now. You certainly have a point there. I find myself bored to the point of not even wanting to test new things; or perhaps, I'm less enthusiastic as I used to be ten years ago when the niche sector really caught on. Possibly we're on the same page, you and I.

I certainly hope that whoever continues the line of SL (if at all, and I firmly believe a decent death is more respectable than a mediocre life) does their best; the line was on the vanguard and I'd hate to see it lagging behind.

I don't have any info if this is his last opus, but metaphorically this talk of death for two releases which are otherwordly and ghost-like are foreboding. I certainly hope that the line picks up again and continues to present challenging and exciting new scents. But that's up to him.

Fracas as a funereal scent is precious! I love your point of view! Yes, you're on to something there.

to be 100% factual, I haven't officially heard of it being his last perfume. (It might feel like it to some, though)Remember: Even as far back as Sarassins there was talk of a retirement. Apparently, that didn't happen. Who knows.

so sorry to see it doesn't work- I had such high hopes for this one...I would like to smell dampness and cold and incense for a death perfume- and something sad all to the end, without any hope still, I would like very much to try this, please, enter me the draw

If dahlia's don't smell, maybe this scent is built around dahlia. This is the third time I have heard that this scent doesn't last. Sadly, my criteria for a death perfume are what was promised in the pre-release press, crysanthemum with something smokey/churchy/mausoleumy, in the periphery of perception.

Hmm, the fragrance doesn't sound much like death to me at all. I envision a death perfume smelling dry, bitter, and resinous, with the contrast of aldehydes and, perhaps, incense marking both the decent of the body into the ground and the flight of the soul upward. I think there is a lot that could be done with this concept, but from your review it seems Lutens missed the mark in just about all directions.

Very interesting conception.When we talking about death we imagine something dark foggy and by the description of the scent it contain earthy notes,which is related also with tne end of our lifes ...dust to dust.But in all the dark aspects, white flowers,cold notes ozonic and earthy notes,related with the image of funera,in the moment of death there is a moment of innocence,personal moment,witch I would like to find in this fragrance,literally of course.

"What if the hearse were taking the deceased,[...]altar boys, priest, undertaker, beadle and gravediggers to some sort of celebration where they could indulge gleefully in vice?" Blech, what a picture. Octavian Coifan didn't like this either (big understatement). Oh well, let us enjoy the SL creations we do love.

I have actually never tried a Serge Lutens before, but would love the opportunity. I do like aldehydic florals... so maybe I would enjoy it at least on that level! Not sure I wanted a 'death perfume,' anyway!

I think "death" perfumes have been done, and done well, already. Two that come to mind are Etro's Messe de Minuit and Guerlain's Djedi. Death smells like dust, herbs, incense and beeswax but a good death perfume also needs to be cosy and skin-like in the end; like birth, death is ulimately a very intimate experience. The dark, macabre side of me would love to try this new "death" perfume, regardless of the general diappoinment.

I hope that the news about the retirement of Serge Lutens are but rumours. What should a death perfume smell like? Well, death is the cessation of the sensorial capabilities like vision, smell etc. It's where the gateways of the senses are broken. To depict this in a scent, one should maybe go in the direction of L'antimatière.

I am delurking to say I have followed the reviews & news with a sense of awe and biting-nails-anticipation and I'm curious to try this perfume, especially after your reviews. So please enter me in the draw!

To me death is serene & quiet, a trail of incense smoke and nothing else.

Lilies and incense. I really like pretty fragrances, but the darker side of me would love to try this fragrance...not sure about the chrysanthymums...like the flowers, but not crazy about the smell. please enter me in the draw...thanks.

I am quite intrigued by the talk of the last perfume by Octavian as well. In any case, I have heard there will be a L'Eau 2 coming next spring, so literally speaking De Profundis will not be the last one.

To me a perfume representing death would be foremost quite "cold", with little if any warmth at all. But also ashy, dusty & earthy. And due to the fact that Iris roots are found buried underground I'd definitely use some Iris in the heart too, (even if just for the symbolism.)As for other flowers, (the actual smell of ;o)) Chrysanths would be fine, but I'd use Lilies & Carnations too (as I always associate these with funerals even more so). All on a base of mossy woods and a trail of Incense smoke to end.~ Please enter me in the draw. Thanx !

I'll retype it because I am really interested in this draw ;) I've heard different things: you ended up being disappointed, another writer started out not being enchanted yet ended that way...

I have personal memories of the smells of death from the times when it came close to my family. Most of them wouldn't be fit for perfume except lavender. My Nana's death smelled of lavender. When Mama and I were going through Nana's things, the smell of dried lavender in her closet haunted us. I still don't like the smell of lavender straight up. Maybe lavender and incense would make me think of death in perfume.

I am really discouraged by all the mediocre reviews on this one but I have to try it for myself.

What I associate with a death perfume is iris (of course), acacia probably with its sweet, leathery smell, incense in the volatile way it was done in Serge Noire, and a touch of cold stone as we have seen it in Gris Clair and revisited it in L' Eau. Oh, I forgot the violets! And maybe some rose.

Hm,lilies and violets I think, and earth maybe. I' ve only tried Bois de Violette so far of the SL scents, so I don't have that much basis for comparison when it comes to earlier SL perfumes. I'd like to be included in the draw though!

Sorry to those who lost their comments and had to repost. I find that Blogger sometimes acts up, especially when the servers are very busy. I apologise and please know I'm counting your entries to the draw.

I think a "death" perfume should be lily based because of the flower's historical association with death. This is especially true for the arum lily. Not the most original idea I'm afraid, but what can I say?

I was pondering a while, thinking that death has meaning too wide to be expressed in one concise idea which a perfume should be, found out that death of a relative or our beloved dog are very specific occasions that cannot be added up. I found out that chrysanthemums, lilies or cypresses just don't have the funerary meaning for me - allergy to cypress pollen means that I'm a naturalized Mediterranean, which is sort of positive in a bizarre way, lilies are the colourful barstuds that sometimes bloom like mad and sometimes they're on strike and chrysanthemums add a splash of colour to the autumn garden. We're a weird family, contrary to local traditions, we don't really mourn on All Souls Day, we grab a bottle of wine and this year, I've promised to make some skull-shaped cookies, and then we hang around the family grave, or rather a cenotaph, chatter about deceased relatives and pour wine for them and people look at us weird. So, it would be guaiacol, mint and vetiver for the cold days, some properly smoking cedar just because, and then warm spices - vanilla, cinnamon... but that's not death either.

I have a book called something like Decadent gardening. There's a chapter on creating a particularly poisonous garden. Belladonna, yew, opium poppy... Such a mix would make a good death perfume.

In a perfume in some way inspired by death, I'd like to find some humor, some hope, or some sex. Without one of these, though it could be intellectually interesting, it wouldn't be something I would like to wear. A good example is actually CB I Hate Perfume's Black March. There is a graveyard feel to that perfume, but at the same time it's like a turning point and it's quite hopeful (maybe that hyacinth note). For humor a twist of something like absinthe, or something mentholated, cold, or chemical layered with warmer, more human notes, and definitely the strongest "salty" note manageable. For sex, a dirty musk, mixed with smells of dry decay, not rotting wet decay, which I don't usually find as enjoyable, more like piles of dead, dry leaves, hay or moss or earth.

pls add me to the draw, tho' primarily out of curiosity. BPAL makes some fabulous death scents...one of the more fascinating represents a formaldehyde sort of scent...green and glowing. real cemetery stuff!

Funnily enough, if I were to imagine a death-scent, from a western perspective, I'd expect a dry, green, aldehydic, earthy floral fragrance. No incense or wax. Just the smell of an open grave slowly being filled with falling dirt after the last mourners have left. And after all, given that formaldehyde is used in embalming, how could you not put that in? Even if only as a darkly humourous accent.

From an eastern context (Hindu/Buddhist), I'd expect a transparent wood fragrance, laced with marigold, rice (iris/violet), musk and smoke. The smells of wooden pyres burning - and garlands of non-sweet flowers. Even a watery feeling, perhaps, as water plays an important role in the last rituals.

I don't know whether my post is going to make it through moderation, but I'll take a chance and write what I have to say - I may be deprived of the ability to use abstract thinking, but I can't imagine how you would like to wear a fragrance that smells of death if you have ever lost someone you loved. I've seen corpses of my most beloved ones and just the smell of the soap that their bodies had been washed before they were buried still makes me gag, let alone other smells that accompanied the day I last saw them. The smell of death has nothing appealing in it - first sick bodies, then rotting bodies, funeral makeup, wet earth. Why would you like to smell like death in the first place? I find it highly inappropriate. It's sad. Or maybe you're just so lucky. So far.

of course your comment made it through "moderation". I only ever delete spam comments (those are many) or those which offend other readers directly (a scarce occassion). I'm proud to say this is one of the very few venues where quite harsh criticism on myself has flown freely without any edit on a couple of occassions. We don't do censorship here.

Then again your comment isn't criticism to me personally, really. The smell of death was the artistic vision of Lutens himself, as described in the launch material. He wanted to evoke a Goth fragrance, filled perhaps with the E.A.Poe ideal of "nothing being more romantic than a young woman dieing". His little riddles, for anyone familiar with the line, are a typical part of his little game with the perfume lovers who buy/wear/sample his fragrances. Whether that's a clever (or even digestable) idea for a perfume is matter for discussion with the creator; we're only here to review the end result.

Alas, I have indeed lost very precious people and the experience has been traumatic, to say the least. But I don't recall the smells associated with the events following those instances with horror, but rather with the poignancy and sweet melancholia reserved for things that scattered like dust in the wind. And I try to keep the memories of the scents emited while living close by at heart at all times...

Elena Vosnaki is executive editor of Fragrantica.gr, the leader in fragrance information in Greek, as well as a senior editor for the top english-speaking Fragrantica.com webzine.

Vosnaki has been Fragrance Expert on About.com and the Perfume History Curator of the Be Open Foundation exhibitionThe Garden of Wonders, A Journey in Scents in Milan. Her writing has been twice shortlisted in the FIFI Editorial Excellence Awards and is extensively quoted by authors. She is an evaluating expert on Osmoz.com.

Perfume Shrine is an award winning blog of 1000s of fragrance reviews (modern, niche, classic, vintage), articles on perfume history and aroma materials, comparisons of scents, interviews with perfumers & the fragrance industry, perfume shopping as well as scented travel memoirs, fine cuisine, tips on building a fragrance wardrobe and musings about the pleasures of the senses.